


Liability

by Huneypie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - No SHIELD (Marvel), Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Bottom Tony Stark, Cute, Dark, Developing Relationship, Diners, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Violence, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Drunk Sex, Eventual Happy Ending, Height Differences, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Jealous Tony Stark, M/M, Mechanic Tony Stark, Mechanics, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Past Relationship(s), Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Pining, Protective Steve, Sad and Sweet, Self-Esteem Issues, Smitten Steve Rogers, Smut, Steve Is NOT abusive, Steve Rogers is Not Captain America, Substance Abuse, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-08 05:20:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15236208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huneypie/pseuds/Huneypie
Summary: Steve has too much to do to bring his car into the repair shop, but he heard the mechanic had quite the reputation...Or, a 1950's AU where Steve's car tires all pop and he has no clue what to do until he takes it to the mechanics and formally meets Tony, who he challenges to teach him about car mechanics.





	1. Intro & Info

Alrighty, I'm just gonna give some info on my posting schedule. I am  _not_ a fast writer, so I definitely will at some point post a chapter or skip a chapter, regardless of the schedule.

I will only be posting  **once**   **a week** , when the chapter will be posted depends on how well I was writing that week.

 

if you hadn't read the tags, some things may trigger you in this story, so some trigger warnings:

 

  * **contains domestic abuse and cheating**
  * **contains substance abuse/alcoholism**
  * **contains mentioning of self-harm**
  * **contains internalized homophobia (just general homophobia due to the time period**



Also, this story contains a small of smut. 

Expect the first chapter to be posted in the next 2-4 days.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Steve woke up like he did every day; with bags under his eyes and a headache silently throbbing in the back of his head. He never liked how scheduled his life was, how repetitive his life seemed. Wake up, eat, go to work, come home, eat, sleep, restart. Steve occasionally went out to the bar with his friends but that rarely happened anymore since the job of being a journalist made him stay after hours so often. Rubbing his eyes, he let out a groan and sat up, feeling his spine and hips pop. Today was finally his late-start day, meaning he could lounge, read the paper, and take Lucille out for a drive before heading off to work. To be frank, he was beyond excited to break his routine.

Steve continued to get up at sloth's pace, feeling more and more like an old man with every movement. After a few moments, Steve was fully able to walk. He slowly made his way out of the small bedroom, thankful that his kitchen wasn’t too far away. For once in his boring-ass life, he could take his time doing something like walking to the kitchen or drinking his coffee. After about an hour of sipping coffee and reading the news, he decided to clean out his coffee mug and maybe get a second.

As he stood up from his breakfast table, the floor tiles felt odd on his bare feet, reminding him of how he had previously lost his favourite slippers. Finally feeling refreshed and alive, Steve straightened himself out and went to get dressed. Steve strode back into his room and opened up his dresser, grabbing a white button-up shirt, a red coloured v-neck sweater and a pair of loose blue jeans rolled up above his ankle. If he wasn’t so muscular, he might’ve looked like one of those alternative college students. Happy with his look, he grabbed a leather jacket, just in case. Grabbing some white socks and his favourite black Italian leather shoes. Being the self-assured man he is, Steve felt he looked particularly good today, his pants gripping all the right places and his sweater accentuating his broad shoulders. He winks at himself and exits his room, going back into the kitchen so he could fetch his newspaper. ‘70° F and sunny’, he reads, thinking it was the perfect day for an afternoon with Lucille.

With a hop in his step, Steve walked through his living room into the garage, where his baby was. Lucille was a cherry red 1956 Talbot-Lago T14 LS Coupé. He walked over to the garage door and opened it, clicking it into place so it doesn’t fall while he’s driving. Looking as radiant and lustrous as ever, he hopped into the driver’s seat, the soft brown leather catching Steve. Steve turned the ignition, hearing her roar to life as a swell smug curled its way onto his lips. He drove out of the dank garage and out into the hot sunshine, stopping half-way down the driveway so he could hop out, shut and then lock the large, colourful door. Jumping back into his car, he ran a rough hand through his soft, all-American blonde hair. Golden sunlight shone in his eyes as he rolled out of his driveway and out onto the quiet street, taking a left down one of the deserted forest roads that are scattered all over his small town. The silence being slightly overwhelming for Steve, he cranked the radio, hearing two young man cracking jokes and using weird slang and phrases that Steve didn’t really understand like “You make the kings jive!” and “It’s the word from the bird!”.

Having enough of their crazy banter, he switches the channel to what most would consider a ‘popular music’ channel and surprising hears one of his favourite songs, Put Your Head on my Shoulder by Paul Anka. Humming to the sweet song, he turned it up impossible loud and continued driving down the golden hour struck back road as his head buzzed with bliss. As he hit a gravel patch, he might’ve heard 3 very suspicious pops, if only his music wasn’t so excruciatingly loud.

After about half an hour of slow cruising, Steve realises how oddly lopsided driving Lucille felt and how she couldn’t go as fast when he accelerated. Not really caring, he drives around back roads and enjoying life until he realizes it’s time for work. After countless hours of eye-soring work and analysing, the clock strikes 9 PM and everyone in the office lets out an exasperated sigh. With tired limbs and lethargic attitudes, everyone gathered up their work said goodbye to the boss. As Steve was walking out the door, one of his co-worker buddies walked up to his side.

“Hey, Rogers, would you want to go hit the bar?” Steve’s friend James (or Bucky, as his nickname goes) says, practically challenging him to go to the lounge for a chance to sip a nice mind-number.

Steve looked conflicted, ”Well, I don’t know, Bucky,” he says, setting his gaze on his shoes.

“Awh, come on Steve! Somethin’ interesting always happens while we’re out, last time we went out, we caught Thor play backseat bingo with some easy doll and Natasha got absolutely blitzed!” Buck says with a provocative grin. Steve grimaced.

“Well, you see, my girl Lucille got something wrong with her, she ain’t been driving straight” He protested, attempting to pose a good excuse.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Steve, stop being such a candyass and get drunk with your friends” He sassed, raising his eyebrows for emphasis.

Steve sighed and reluctantly agreed, not feeling up to socialize with randos. Without much of a choice, he said a quick bye to Bucky and hoped into Lucille, preparing himself mentally for the night ahead of them. The worn leather looked grey in the street lights, making Steve’s surroundings seem even bleaker. Just wanting this whole ‘trip’ over with, he floored it out of the parking lot and follows Bucky’s car to their usual bar. Steve decided to turn on the radio, once again feeling overwhelmed by the thick silence. As he turned it on, he realized how loud it was earlier, practically blaring, and turned it down enough to realize it was just an ad for a garage door. Practically brain static. He decides to change the channel, once again, rough fingers ghosting over the radio knob and twisting until he hit a new music channel playing some swing.

Before he knew it, Steve was pulling into the lot, already hearing the voices from inside ringing out into the cold, dark night. He could tell that most of the guys in there will be total cats, which made him ease up, knowing that the lounge will be much calmer than past experiences. He may not be jazzed, but he is looking forward to sipping some made-in-the-shade whiskey. Steve killed the ignition and hopped out of Lucille, shutting her door and sauntering his way towards his drinking buddies; Bucky, Thor, and Natasha. Bucky and Thor were making small conversation as Steve joined their group, Steve giving them the tell-tale sign that they should head in now.

Nat elbowed Steve in the arm as they entered into the main bar, “I’m planning on staying sober tonight, saw some vultures on the prowl recently-” She gestures to a few greasy, uncouth-looking guys stalking the bar”- and they ain’t catching me. Since you prefer to not get black-out loaded, you should team up with me this time” Natasha says, leaning in an attempt to keep the boys from hearing, seeing them already bolting for some good, hard liquor.

Steve shrugged, “Sounds like a nifty plan” he mumbles a half-assed answer that Natasha isn’t too pleased with.

Nat, having enough of Steve decides to go lounge on a loveseat and sip scotch, looking way too elegant for such a hole-in-the-wall pub. After not too long Steve found himself sitting on one of the couches in an isolated corner, silently peering around to spot either of his male friends. Quickly, Steve spotted them at the far right side of the dimly lit bar, far away from the very crowded opposite side. Per usual, Thor held two beers, one in each hand with an empty bottle resting horizontally on the bar counter. Ricky Nelson played quietly in the background, making the whole scene almost movie-esque. Feeling peaceful under the casual chatter and quiet music, Steve couldn’t help but notice a small, brown-hair fellow stumbling around and laughing like a total doofus. Deciding to subconsciously keep an eye on him, Steve stood up and cautiously walked over to his boys.

Bucky pushed a beer into Steve’s hand, and by that point, Steve had practically given up in trying to stay completely sober. Taking a swig, Steve glanced out the front windows to look at Lucille, reminding him of his apparent car problem.

“Hey Buck, Remember how I said my car hasn’t been doing too hot?” Steve asked, eyes still to his car.

“Vaguely”

“Well, I still haven’t figured out her deal and I was wondering if you knew a mechanic I could ring?” he said, finally looking over to see Thor had disappeared and Bucky swirling his beer around.

“I do, but I have to say, he isn’t a total frat if that’s what you’re lookin’ for. He isn’t a total hood, either, just...interesting” Bucky responded, looking around slightly like he was giving out some information others don’t know. Steve was intrigued.

“His names Tony” He continues, saying it like a secret, “Not a lot of people know about this but some heard from the birds that he’s a total drunk”

Steve was laughing at how childish Bucky was being when Bucky turned his head and looked to their side. The brown-haired man from before was making his way towards them from Natasha’s direction, stumbling after every other step. Steve looked bemused whilst Bucky just stayed quiet. The short man was finally at a standstill, even if he was leaning one way more than the other.

“Heyyyy Buck! Haven’t seen you in the shop for quite some time” The man slurred out, tripping and stumbling over certain syllables.

“Hey, Tony,” he says, in the most monotone voice he could muster in his buzzed state. Steve snorted out a laugh.

So this man was Tony, he assumed. He was much younger than Steve would’ve thought, with how Bucky talked about him, it made the man sound like he was some 60-year-old oddball. Tony furrowed his eyebrows comically, every bit of his expression being exaggerated.

“Who is this fine cat?” Tony said, pointing a finger into Steve’s chest and leaning into him. Bucky pulls him back.

“Steve, that’s Tony,” Bucky says, already irritated with how the conversation is going.

Tony giggles and leans out of Bucky’s grip, once again, and starts to practically climb Steve. The larger man looks at Bucky for help, when his friend looks back with a look saying ‘there’s no use’. Very flustered and uncomfortable, Steve pushes off a practically purring Tony.

Tony rolls his eyes,” like you didn’t like it” he mumbled under his breath, loud enough for only Steve. He felt his ears flush as he heard those words, something starting to stir in the pit of his stomach. He passed it off as disgust from the touch of another guy, especially one like Tony.

An awkward silence rang through the small group when Steve cleared his throat as to get Tony’s attention.

“Hi, My names Steve Rogers, I heard you’re a mechanic. A pleasure to meet you” Steve says briskly, adding a small smile that could practically go unnoticed. He held his hand out. Tony was weirded out by his formalities.

He stumbled a bit forward, feeling a bit queasy, but took his hand anyway, “The names Tony Stark. Likewise” he forced out, his head feeling hot and his mouth starting to salivate.

He felt a cold sweat run down him, saliva practically dripping out of his mouth when his stomach clenched. Tony double over, dry heaving like a madman. Steve let go of his hand and grabbed his shoulders, trying to stand him upright, when Natasha ran over. She cast a glance towards both of the boys and tried to help Tony towards the bathroom, but it was too late. Tony threw up all over Steve's shoes, and then some. Mortified, Tony looked up to Steve, eyes as wide as cup saucers. Everyone was stunned into silence. Yes, people threw up in bars, and everyone knew Tony had a drinking problem, but he was not one to hurl, even when he was absolutely plastered. He apologized profusely, Steve just shaking his head in disbelief. Tony had thrown up all over his shoes.

Natasha ushered Tony out, everyone staring as they left. Steve just stood there in shock, because his only mechanic just threw up all over his Italian leather shoes.

Tony stumbled out the door, shaking with a dribble of sick running down his chin. Nat gripped his shoulder like a vice, but he wasn’t sure whether it was because she was angry or worried. As they walked in silence, Tony slumped further, a headache throbbing behind his eyes and his throat felt like a desert. His lips tingled and he felt burning cold, his vision flashing in and out as Nat forced him into her car, preparing to drive him to his house. As Tony’s vision faltered, he legitimately thought he was going to die. Natasha pulled out of the parking lot. The last thing he heard before blacking out was quiet, worried mumbling from somewhere in front of him.

When he finally opened his eyes the next morning, the first thing he felt was the sun. Heat. Bright light shining right into his eyes. As he adjusted to the light, he felt his head pound and ache, like long claws were digging into the sides of his head and his eyes. The first thing he heard that morning was the lovely voice of his wife.

“Fucking pathetic, sometimes I think I shouldn’t even let you go outside. I should just lock you in the cage. It’s not like anyone will come to find you-” Pepper scoffed “-it’s not like anyone will love you like I do” she finishes with a disturbingly casual shrug.

Tony really wished he was dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy sorry that it's not too great, and It's kinda short, but expect them to get better. Thank you for reading, it really warms my heart when people like my writing <3<3  
> Next chapter will be up but on the 18th or earlier.


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